Saturday, September 29, 2007

What have you done for me lately?


Statistically, most women say that infertility is the biggest tragedy of their lives. Worse than divorce, even worse than death in many cases. I can see this, because the death of possibilities, what might have been, can be a lot harder than a physical loss. And it is a very real grieving process that is difficult to talk about.

Plus, nobody brings you pies or casseroles.

The downsides of infertility are many, and their roots go deep. I know that IF has affected my attitude towards sex, my self-image and feelings about my body, my relationship between my husband and I. Most of the changes are negative.

As many bloggers have mentioned, there is a certain wide-eyed joy when you decide to start trying to get pregnant. It's something that most people never expect to have a problem with. It's exciting, and it's terrifying. And as time goes on, it becomes tinged with desperation, and every time AF shows up, it's like a slap in the face. You get jaded. Sex that can't result in a baby seems like a waste of time. Which, if you are on the infertility treadmill for long enough, can translate to "every time." Romance isn't so much a part of the equation if it has to be turned on and off like a TV program.

Our situation had brought The Man and I closer together in many ways. I have always had issues with people seeing me cry, and that includes him. I have forcibly had to transcend this, and The Man has had to learn to be supportive and not to laugh when I come unhinged about the way he folds laundry (true) or when I am hysterical and sobbing uncontrollably for two days because I watched a documentary about flightless Arctic birds. He's not great about showing his feelings either, but they have made the occasional appearance. It scares the hell out of me every time, but we're at least both secure in the fact that we are there for each other, no matter what.

My feelings about my body have never really been positive. I have always been overweight, I have always struggled with my skin. While infertility hasn't really improved either one of these, they have made me realize that the appearance of my body is not as important as its abilities. The numbers on the scale and the red bump on my forehead suddenly seem like mere blips on the radar. I'm not sure if this is a healthy attitude, but it's the truth!

What has IF changed for you?

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Yaaaaaaaaaaaawn















I am one sleepy girl.

The realization that I have been working for more than two weeks straight- not full-time, but without one complete day off- is kind of a freaky thought.

However, I have been dwelling on IF stuff a lot less, in some ways.

In other ways, I've had a few bittersweet moments.


I wore a bright blue shirt the other day, and evidently, this color attracts babies. Because all the babies in the store stared at me constantly, to the point that their mothers noticed it and got a little weirded out. One of them said, "Well! It looks like he wants to go home with you!" when her little guy reached out his arms like he wanted me to pick him up.

We both laughed, and in retrospect, I am not quite sure how I managed it.

There was a mom and her barely two-year-old at the store today, waiting for a dressing room.

Baby: "Where Greg? Want Greg!"

She calls for Greg repeatedly in a little falsetto voice, like she is calling a cat.

Mom: "Greg is Daddy, sweetie! Say Daddy!"

Baby: "Daddy Greg!" And she laughs hysterically.

Mom: "You are so silly baby!" And I hear the sounds of her laughing and covering her little girl with kisses and raspberries, while the little girl squeals and giggles and squirms.

And I can't help thinking, "What if this never happens for me?"

They are so happy, so natural, and they make it look so easy. And for me, it is just so NOT easy.

In slightly more bizarre news, I was teaching a class of 6th graders yesterday, and we were discussing Velcro. I mentioned that it was about 25 years old, and it had been invented when I was a little girl. There's one boy in this class who is a foot taller than everyone else, and he raised his hand, and asked, "How old are you?"

I don't mind revealing my age, especially when it's a kid who asks. The look of horror and disbelief on his face when I said, "thirty-two" was downright hilarious.
I choose not to consider why he reacted this way, because any conclusion that I might leap to would be disturbing.

For example, I might be older than his mom.

SEE BRAIN? That's why you just don't want to go there!

I have a ton of "classic" prego symptoms right now, but I know it's just the wretched progesterone making its presence known. TMI warning- I was putting on my bra today, and caught a glimpse of the girls and um...they look weird. But once again, I get that "Whose breasts are THESE?!!" moments pretty much every month.

In other news of the weird:

We have a Siamese-mix neutered male cat named Tiramisu, and he is basically a curmudgeon. He's cranky. He's whiny. He doesn't like to be picked up or held, and he sleeps 95% of the time on "his" chair in the living room.

During the 2ww, he won't leave me alone. He is all snuggly, he wants to be with me all the time. And when I pet him, he purrs like a motorboat.

He was like this last cycle too, and I tried explaining it to The Man, who essentially thought I was out of my mind until he witnessed the random love-fest and the kneading and the purring and the attempted kitty kisses this month.

I am wondering if the injectables are making me smell different, or if I am slowly going crazy....or maybe our cat is manic-depressive. If the pattern continues, when AF begins to arrive, he will go back to his crotchety old ways again!

By the way...I have noticed my number of readers going steadily up, and I am extremely flattered by all your thoughtful comments and the way my sitemeter map is filling up. Thanks so much- It's so good to know that we aren't all in this alone!

If you read this blog and aren't listed on my sidebar, please drop me a comment so I can add your blog to my reading list! (Of course, feel free to leave a comment if you ARE listed on my sidebar too! I love all you guys.)

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Ci-cilia, You're breakin' my heart















You're shakin' my confidence laaaately.....

Don't worry, I can spell, The bad pun will become obvious later.

OK, so I am going to add more, but it's going to be later tonight. I am off to work again, my schedule has been nuts. Ok, I am off to job #2 in an hour- so I will add the gory details!

Summation- the IUI happened, it went well, and the sample lasted just fine while nestled in my cleavage for a little longer than was recommended. I split the difference and showed up 15 minutes early, and there was no comment.

The Man has been put on notice. Neither of us is a morning person, which I know is a factor. To be fair, when he got up and moving, he did apologize for being a poop. And he was very considerate to me while I was practically comatose and convinced that my ovaries were exploding, and actually planned and made food. (Yeah, quesadillas, but he gets points for effort.)

The actual IUI went well, but was weird. First of all, it HURT! This has never happened before. Usually it's just my ovaries, although last cycle I didn't even really get that. This time they were both agitated, not to mention, afterwards, I had major cramping. EVERYONE was pissed off. I don't know if that's good or bad. They did mention at my appointment that my cervix was wiiiide open. (Ack! my cervix is a ho!)

I spoke with my fave tech, and basically put it out there. "Um...so if this cycle is uneventful...well, his sperm are great. My eggs and uterus are great. Why am I taking all these drugs to produce more eggs? I am worrying that either my egg quality sucks, in which case the drugs really won't help, or that things aren't implanting, so ditto, or that The Man's chemistry and mine are incompatible, which really isn't going to become immediately obvious until we do IVF anyway. Do you have any ideas?"

Evidently, she has a theory. She thinks that the cilia in my fallopian tubes may be out of whack, and when that's an issue, they can't waft the egg towards the sperm or vice-versa. Sort of like incompetent crowd-surfing at a rock concert. My cilia may be just like the a**holes who have smoked too much pot and just drop the kid on the concrete floor.

Yes, that is my take on it. First the uterine disco lounge, then the easter egg basket ovaries, and now fallopian crowd surfing. My reproductive anatomy sounds like a freaking theme park! Wooohooo!

In the meantime, the 2ww is officially on, and I am allowing myself to hope. I have a girl's weekend at the coast planned, and I will know by then whether I can drink or not, which I guess is the up-side in case my cilia actually aren't working.

Meanwhile, we are trying to decide what to do in case this cycle is not a success. Do I really want to have IUI #6? This is my free cycle of meds....could I put those towards IVF, or are they only used during an IUI cycle? The next IVF boat departs in November, so I would baaaaarely squeak by with the timing.

I can't answer any of these questions for two weeks. I'm hoping that I won't have to answer them, because the point will be moot. Or if you're a Friends fan, it will be "moo".

Monday, September 24, 2007

So hungry, so angry




After four hours of sleep, I leaped out of bed. This is most unlike me. I have often expressed my admiration for both of our cats, one of whom parks on a chair in the den, the other of whom likes our bed. They will reliably park in their spots, and I will arrive home six hours later to find them both still there.

Those lazy little freaks have a pretty sweet deal, if you ask me.

So, the hungry part is a lot easier to solve than the angry part.
(Hungry? Eat breakfast and stop your whining. Angry? Well.....)


The Man's workplace tends to frown upon taking days off at short notice. We were initially unworried, because he has Fridays off, but with the schedule change, he couldn't get this morning off. He has to be at work by 7:30, and it takes 20-30 minutes for me to drive to the clinic. It's technically do-able, if I do all the ferrying.

I don't know if I have mentioned that The Man is in the military, but he is. He has assured me that he can't find privacy at work to complete a sample, not that I would want him to have to do that, but hey.

The morning of the IUI is always a disaster. I end up upset and stressed out every time. Like last month, when it was his day off and he assured me that he would take care of everything, allegedly set his alarm, and then slept through it. Having been awake most of the previous night, and thinking I only had to be awake for my appointment at 10:45, I was in no condition to remind him. I ended up waking up to his swearing at around 9, and we ended up calling the clinic and bringing the sample in late. Then he refused to go to the clinic with me, because he had forgotten that it was the big day and made other plans.

Or the time before that, when we got in a huge fight the morning of- I had given him all the info, what time I needed to leave by, etc., and he didn't remember any of it, so he didn't allot enough time to get dressed for work and do the deed. Or the time before that....you get the picture.

I have adopted a policy of not getting visibly upset, because it just makes things worse, although I am sure that the "internally boiling with rage" reaction that is happening can't be a good thing.

A big part of me feels that his avoidance of going to the clinic with me and his attitude (which, if I am honest, is that of a pissy 14 year old) on "collection day" is some weird passive aggressive thing. I know he wants to have kids, because he is the one who wanted to start trying. Maybe he just can't accept that we need medical intervention?

The thing is, I am spending tons of money, time, and my sanity on this. I have rearranged my entire life for this, and a big part of me resents it that I go through doctor's visits, shots, surgery, ultrasounds, and suppositories, while he can't manage to get out of bed on time and be civil on what amounts to less than one day a month.

Last month, I finally confronted him, and asked, "Do you still want to do this?" And he got upset, offended, defensive (which is worrisome) and assured me that he did indeed want us to have a child together in this lifetime. I told him that if that was the case, he needed to step up, so I could see that he meant it.

So anyway, "collection day" has become a loaded experience...no pun intended. And it seems like we go through this every stinking time, and this time is no exception- with the added complication that the RE's note that I get each month has changed.

Every month we have brought in the sample at 8AM on the dot, and now that I look at this note- 8:30.

Which is totally impossible with our schedule, and I have not one freaking clue what I can do, other than stick a vial in my bra for almost an hour and hope that quality will not be affected. I have already googled "sperm longevity" and "How long do sperm live outside the body" while knowing that my clinic wants it there in 30 minutes, tops. Like Domino's pizza. And of course I can't call them, because even though they show up to the office around 8, they won't answer the phone until nine. Garrrrrrrgh!

My only other option is to show up at 8AM anyway and force them to let me in.

I just tried going to The Man with these options, and he totally snapped at me. And while I am not going to let myself explode, I am through making excuses for him.

Has anyone else gone through something like this? I'm pretty much at the end of my tether.

Guess which night it is?














'Twas the night before IUI

And all through the house

Jenna did all the laundry

And set dishes to douse.

The Man was out cold

Snuggled up in his bed

While visions of sample vials

Danced in his head.


Oh, why can't I sleep? Why? WHY?!!!!

It's been one of those days. Two people called in sick to work, so I came in and covered for six hours, but of course, all the stuff I was supposed to do at home didn't happen. Bleah!

Also, for those of you who may be taking/have taken Menopur, did it give you some seriously, um, vivid, pornographic dreams?

Um, no reason, just asking.

I injected the Ovidrel last night, and I know it's working: my left ovary is killing me, which is par for the course.

Now I just need my brain to calm down so I can sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

Saturday, September 22, 2007

The Saga Of Dr. Combover (Part Two)

Anyone who wants to read The Saga (Part One) may do so here.

The surgery and recovery were really easy for me. Thank goodness! And there was that prevailing feeling that I was "fixed." The problem was taken care of!

Then I went back in for me follow-up, and well...I just wish they could have prepared me in some way.

I was informed that I didn't actually have a blocked tube. After going through all my adventures with Righty, I am guessing it was just orbiting Pluto on the day that I had my HSG, so the dye didn't pool like it was supposed to.

The surgery did serve a purpose- I had some "mild endometriosis" that they cleaned up. So, since the tube wasn't a problem, what did I want to do?

Then he started throwing facts and figures and percentages at me. Clomid, 8%, here's the cost, IUI, medicated, 25% chance, here's the cost....

At this point, I was pretty early in my infertility journey, and I hadn't researched any of this data. My hopes had just been dashed. I felt like he was trying to sell me a baby like it was a used car, if that makes any sense. I know now that any reasonable person would understand that this is a lot of info to take in and assimilate within five minutes, but he just wasn't bothering to take that into consideration.

Dr. Combover was looking at me like I was a specimen who was misbehaving in a culture dish, while he waited for me to come up with an answer and stop wasting his expensive time. I finally said that I would need to discuss my options with my husband and research everything on my own before jumping into a treatment plan, and he just shook his head at my with poorly-concealed irritation.

In reality, the way he was interacting with me was pissing me off so much, I vowed that I was going to find someone else to treat me. A phone call to Dr. Teddybear disabused me of that notion. Not only does he get great results, he's the only game in town. Crap.

In the meantime, I had already asked for a copy of my medical records from his office, and I made the mistake of reading them. When I got to the paragraph that included his comments about the copious amounts of fat in my abdominal region...well, that didn't make me feel more kindly disposed towards him. Especially since I had asked whether my weight was a factor, and he said it had nothing to do with anything.

So I have been continuing to go to the office, and haven't seen the man since...it's been two years. All my procedures have been done by nurses and techs, and (perhaps understandably)I have been OK with that.

Am I overreacting? I have spoken to another woman in town who has had dealings with him, and she desribed him as being a "cold fish." But is personality that important if I am just trying to get results?

I am trying to decide what the next step would be, and I am in the fortunate position to be close to both San Francisco and Los Angeles...so if I am willing to go through some additional inconvenience, my options could be increased exponentially if I decide to jump off the Dr. Combover ship.

Friday, September 21, 2007

A Shot In The Arm


We now interrupt the Saga of Dr. Combover to say...WOW.

Seriously, the people at Freedom Pharmacy are amazing. They have overnighted I-don't- know-how-many really expensive little vials to me over the last week or so, and per my clinic's instructions, more Gonal-f and the brand-new prescription for Menopur was supposed to arrive this morning.

I waited. And waited. I have never gotten a delivery later than 10:30, so when it got to be two PM, I began to panic and called the pharmacy. They reassured me that the shipment was in its way- evidently a FedEx plane had some technical difficulties. They gave me the tracking number and the FedEx toll-free line, and had FedEx flag the order with the driver as an urgent delivery.

It finally got here at around 3:30 PM.

So thank you, Freedom and FedEx!

I would also like to thank the nameless woman who donated her leftover meds to my doctor's office. I was panicking when they prescribed more drugs, to be taken that day, and I knew that the dregs in the Gonal-f syringe at home weren't even going to come close to what I needed. Nameless woman, you are a superhero, and I promise I will do the same thing if I ever have any leftover largesse.

Time has given me some perspective. I was so upset yesterday, because I planned ahead and my plans got changed. My cycle wasn't cancelled. I have three likely looking follicles. Hell, Righty even decided to toe the line and cough one up this month.

Is it going to be more difficult because things changed? You betcha. But as The Man said, "Anything worth working for is rarely easy." I may have responded with "Thanks, Yoda." Because that's how we roll.

But yeah, I can see his point. We've come a long way, and we have a long way to go. Now is not the time to freak out over trifles.

On another note....

Holy crap, those Menopur injections are scary. First of all, they switched things up on me at the RE's office, and I have to inject the Gonal-f and the Menopur into my upper arm. I had gotten really used to injecting into my belly, but the tech said that there's a better chance of getting serious absorption with the arm injection.

So I get my meds today, and I open the boxes, and HOLY CRAP!! I am not sure what gauge the needles are that come attached to the Menopur syringes. But compared to my happy little Gonal pens, they look two inches long and as big around as a pencil lead. Luckily, you switch to a finer gauge needle to actually inject the stuff, but I nearly had a heart attack just looking at those things.

OH! And I asked why my office prescribes the 300 IU syringes. I was right! You actually get more meds (because of the leftover meds in each syringe) than you do with the higher dosage pens...for the same cost. I estimate on this cycle, the leftovers made up about two full pens, which is around a $700 savings. Not too shabby. I figured it was too good a tip not to share.

How's everyone's week going? Anything fun planned for the weekend?

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

The Saga Of Dr. Combover (Part One)

Way, waaaay back, at least three years ago, when I was still young(ish) fresh and innocent, I had an HSG.

My OB/Gyn, Dr. Teddybear (because he is so lovable and huggable, which is both great and a total liability, because I often succumb to tears in front of the poor man)went over the results with me and said,

"Well, sweetie, your right tube is blocked. It doesn'tt look like scarring, probably a plug, but we are going to refer you to THE guys in town. There's Dr. Jet-Setter, and the guy he trained who is just as good, Dr. Combover. They'll do laprascopic on you, and you'll be good as new.

I waited the three-month wait and booked an appointment, ending up with Dr. Jet-setter, whom I really liked. However, it was a short appointment...less than 15 minutes. He started talking about eventual IUI's and IVF, and I just wasn't ready...in addition to which, The Man was stationed out of town for the next three months, so surgery or IUI's were going to be out of the question for awhile. I told him we would discuss it and get back to him.

We waited for a year, and Dr. Teddybear tested for PCOS, started me on my first bout with Clomid, and ended up telling me, "Well, we just can't find a problem. You may want to consider the surgery, which will increase the odds."

I went back to the specialist's office. Dr. Jet-setter travels between California and South America, because he is evidently that much of a hotshot, and he was gone, so they signed me up for surgery in three months with Dr. Combover, a man I had never met.

I wasn't too worried. I had an appointment booked the week before my surgery, and I assumed I would be meeting the doctor then.

To make a long story shot, I was wrong. I went into prep for surgery, met the anaesthesiologist, a jovial guy with a Russian accent, who asked if I was nervous.

When I explained that the only issue was that I hadn't met the doctor doing my surgery, and I didn't know if it was unreasonable to meet him before I went into the OR, he thumped me on the shoulder and said, with Slavic solemnity, "I do not think it unreasonable to meet the man who is going to cut on you. I will bring him. One moment."

I sat there, in those stupid slipper socks, trying to cover my ass with the hospital gown, and he brought Dr. Combover in.

The man was obviously not thrilled to see me, and irritated by the time he wasted to be brought into my prescence. He introduced himself (stiffly) and uttered the fateful words, "Well! Dr. Jetsetter has nothing but great things to say about you!"

Since I had met Dr. Jetsetter exactly once, for 15 minutes, this was obviously a big fat lie, and didn't put me at ease. In fact, it kinda made me hate his guts. Which is an unnerving feeling to have about someone who is about to get up close and personal with your reproductive organs.

I just remember focusing on the anesthesiologist (who was my kind of guy, and I wished HE was my doctor) thinking, "You don't have to like Dr. Combover. It's not his job to be likeable. Just think babies. Think babies...." as I was wheeled into the OR.

Intermission

I am stalled.

That's the news I got during the ultrasound today. I still have one dominant follicle on the right, one on the left, but they are still where they were on Monday. The two smaller follicles seem to have joined forces, so I actually can expect three follicles this cycle...but the IUI has been postponed.

I have to order some more pens of Gonal-f, and also Menopur on top of that.

I am feeling disillusioned, and also, am freaking out because this is costing a lot more than I was expecting.

When I said something to this effect, along with the fact that if it's just egg production that they want, Clomid seems to produce better results and is covered by my insurance, the tech said, "Well, would you like to see the doctor?"

Confession: I haven't seen the actual doctor since my laprascopic exploratory surgery checkup over a year ago. I have to get to work and order my new meds, so I'll expound on all of this tonight.

IUI is rescheduled for Monday.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

Ok, I'll just get down to the brass tacks.

Well, and then I will waffle. We all know how I love waffles!

I was worried due to lack of twinging, but lo! something must be working. My first clue was this morning, when I had a protracted battle with the top button on my jeans. And then proceeded to need to pee every 10 minutes. But it's all worth it. Thank goodness.

Here are the stats for IUI cycle #5! (Holy crap. FIVE!)

Once again, I have four follicles: two big fat 14's, one each for Lefty and Righty, and then as usual, Lefty is the overachiever with two smaller follicles, eight and ten. My levels are at 290.

300 more IU of Gonal-f tonight, and again tomorrow. Then another ultrasound on Wednesday. If all goes well, I trigger Wednesday night, and the IUI is Friday morning. Righty, if you go south on me, you are getting evicted. I mean it. You gotta earn your keep around here.

On a more entertaining note, I got to hear my uterus described as "gorgeous", which is a new one for me. I also evidently have "perky" ovaries. Is it just me, or is that bizarre? Like being told that your spleen is charming.

Plus, the adjective "perky" always makes me think of Katie Couric. However, considering how many uterii and ovaries this woman has seen in her lifetime, I think I have to choose to believe her.

Somehow, I don't think this is what was meant by "pretty on the inside."

So yeah. My reproductive system is a 10! However, so far it has been purely decorative. Come on, girls. This is the month!

I ordered another stinking pen of Gonal-F. That's six 300 IU pens. I am wondering why my RE ordered this way, instead of two 900 IU pens. Could it have something to do with the "leftovers" inside each 300 IU syringe? When I do the math, there's only a $3 or so price difference, so it doesn't matter much either way (except that priming the pen each night is getting old, and that's a lot of packaging to clog up landfills each month.

Anyone know about this? I'm confuzzled.

They debated about prescribing Menopur as well. Anyone have experience with this? They didn't end up doing it- the consensus was that everything was coming along nicely and that it was unnecessary.

While I still have not seen Dr. Combover, which is another post in itself, the ultrasound tech did say that she will personally reviewing my case. I don't know her name, or her title, or anything else.

Ordinarily, I would be freaking out about this, but....this cycle is weird. I feel very zen, for lack of a better term. Like this is all happening to someone else, and I am taking a detatched and clinical interest in it.

Since I can't remember the last time I was ever detatched and/or clinical about- well, anything, this is one hell of a change. Huh.

Okay. Almost time for work. And since my pants don't fit anyway, I may as well extract myself from them (maybe the Jaws Of Life would work) and eat a boatload of chicken nachos.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

We're everywhere!



Last night, we went to a surprise birthday party.

It was one of those things where you know the birthday girl, but you are linked through friends/family who you are closer to.

The friends/family that we are closer to were busy tending bar and helping out. And the great thing is, the party really was a surprise, and everyone looked like they were having fun.

But we sort of didn't know anyone, and the people we DID know were integrally involved with being hosts, so we *gulp* went out on a limb and met new people.

Needless to say, the Man and I aren't exactly social butterflies. But I made a concerted effort, and ended up talking to a couple at our table who were a little older than us, but seemed cool.

We went over occupations, how long we had been married (us, 5 years, them, 17! married right out of high school!) and then they asked if we had kids.

Me: Nope, not yet. When it happens, it happens.

Her: Us too! Well, if it happened, we'd be thrilled but you know, we're in our 40's, so the odds aren't on our side.

She was so upbeat and matter-of fact about it, and she seemed so relieved to meet another childless couple! We had a fabulous, kid-free conversation. Infertility was never openly discussed, but it was out there...and man, it was wonderful.

In other horizon-broadening news, The Man and I made plans to take ballroom and salsa dance lessons with another couple, and we also have started making plans to take a trip to the beach house as a group. We are venturing out of our comfort zone!

Another fun thing that we have started doing is an effort to keep our brains moving. The Man is helping me to learn Russian (he knows basic conversational stuff) and I am teaching him French. It seems to be working out well...we are spending time together and it gives us stuff to talk about that isn't related to the drugs I am taking or where we are in this month's cycle, which is wonderful.

Tomorrow is going to be insane. I wake up early, get my bloodwork done before 7AM, then drive to Los Banos (which is an hour away) to deal with a ticket. Drive back, get the ultrasound, then I am doing a science workshop- all before 2PM!

Yes, I am a busy little bee/ptchela/abeille!

At least it is keeping my mind off things.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

The Magic of Photoshop!



Thanks Farah, for the idea!

What do you guys think? Is there anything else I should add?

You know my twisted mind...I wanted to insert, "But only on Day 14" under the "You can do it!"

Yes or no?

Worried
















I got nothing.

The ovarian pinging of last cycle is not happening, and it is freaking me out.

I am injecting 300 IU a day, here, ovaries. What gives?

Granted, I am a little bloated, and I don't think I ate anything that would account for that.

Ugh. This is torture!

I did have enough Gonal-f to inject last night. (Barely- but I made it!)

In the meantime, I am waiting for the package from the pharmacy to arrive, so I can get on with my Saturday. I am actually not working! I am still in shock.

I keep thinking of the fortune cookie I got yesterday. The fortune said something along the lines of, "Doubt is the seasoning of life."

As a seasoning, I definitely prefer lemon pepper. Because the doubt is really beginning to suck.

Friday, September 14, 2007

ehn



Time has been flying by, oddly enough. Today I have to order more Gonal-F, and I am sort of worried that I am not going to have enough left for my dose tonight (I was supposed to order yesterday- oops.)

I have also been very busy with work and family obligations. And I have also been having conversations like this:

Me: You know, it's really irritating that I am the problem. Somehow. But not know what the problem is.

Him: Maybe my guys are just frightened and they are hiding.

Me: Why would your guys hide? There are millions of them!

Him: Well, the egg is a lot bigger, in relation to my guys. I bet they are intimidating.

Me: OK, well, if I were an egg, I would be the one who was worried. It would be like me getting attacked by millions of mice.

Him: Well, on the other hand, think of the sperm's perspective! It would be like seeing two Yukon Denalis heading straight at me.

Me: Are we still talking about my uterus? Because it's starting to sound like Mutual of Omaha's Wild America. Or maybe West Side Story.

Him: With just a dash of Nascar.
_________________________________

Yesterday was a big event at Dad's workplace, and I met a lot of his office staff.

Her: Hi! I'm Robin! You must be the oldest daughter!

Me: Yes, that's me...nice to meet you Robin!

Her: You're the one with the baby!

(At this point, I see my mother visibly cringe.)

Me: Nope...no baby!

Her: Oh, I could have sworn it was you!

Me: No, not me. No kids yet! Ha ha!

Her: I wonder who that was....

Mom later pulled me to the side and said, "Well, I am glad you're not still taking the Clomid."

Me: "I know. Dad has a lot of sharp objects in his office. And there would have been witnesses."

Ultrasound is Monday. I am giving the follies a pep talk as we speak.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

I look like who?

I consider this further evidence that computers are dumb.

Has anyone else tried this?



Of course, I would like it better if they were not all waaaaaaaaay more photogenic than I am. I will console myself with the knowledge that they all have stylists.

Hmmm....maybe I should try another picture.

OK, two of them are repeats..Amanda Peet and what's her face whose picture is chopped off. One more time.....

Ok, I am not quite this delusional. I would have showed all of them, buy evidently, I can only save one. Beyonce? Anna Kournicova? Halle Berry? Yeah. I wish! Computers are dumb.

I know this has absolutely nothing to do with infertility, but if you need some distraction, this is pretty much unbeatable. And oh yeah, I did do it again, and got Heath Ledger and David Duchovny. Hmmmmm......

Monday, September 10, 2007

If you build it, they will come.



The ultrasound went well this morning. They found Righty(I am picturing it with glasses and a stripey hat, like Waldo)with a minimum of difficulty. No cysts. Lining where it should be for Day Three.

"And!" said the ultrasound tech, "We are going to get at least FOUR follicles out of you this time!!!"

I thought (but did not say) that there were four follicles last time, until Righty took a hike sometime between Day 10 and Day 14.

But damn. I am taking 300 of the Gonal-F for the next SEVEN DAYS.

You hear that Righty? You should be quaking in your boots. Or you would be, if ovaries had boots.

The credit card should also be quaking in its boots. Oy. I have to order two more vials!!!

The visit went as well as it could go, and I finally bit the bullet and asked about IVF.

They gave me a price sheet. And a pamphlet on financing options. And a small lecture about patience and waiting and seeing.

I know all these things. I am trying so hard to have faith in these procedures, and I am going to go out on a limb and let myself hope, this time.

I am going back to walking, and have actually cracked the cellophane on Yoga For Fertility, which I bought on Amazon about a year ago. I have all my meds together, and am making sure I get at least 8 hours of sleep a night.

The Man asked if there was anything he could do to help, and I am going to hit him up for massages. He has also promised to walk with me and to take his vitamins.

We're going to eat Chez Sais Quoi as much as possible, so we can eat more healthily.

The big leap, however, is the cleaning out of The Room.

We are very careful never to call it anything else. It's Jenna's Craft Room, The Third Bedroom...it's become kind of a catchall. And in the process of getting rid of the metric tons of clothing that I have managed to accumulate, and dispersing all my crafty stuff, The Third Bedroom is slowly becoming a blank slate.

This is my leap of faith. I'm putting it out there. And words cannot express how terrified I am. This is going to work. I am doing everything in my power to succeed this month, and the notion that it might not work (again) has paralyzed me and kept me from accomplishing this for two years.

I hope the universe doesn't smite me down.

Sunday, September 9, 2007

The duh moment

The "duh" moment is the opposite of the "A-ha!" moment.

For example, I am on the phone with my sister, who will be in town this week, and I say, (within my husband's hearing) that I will be able to go out for drinks with her when she is here!

I also let The Man know that I have ordered my meds, and will he be home on Saturday to get the package? Affirmative.

I leave the box of 'pons out on the bathroom shelf. If he cares to look, the negative test is nonchalantly balancing on top of the bathroom trash.

This is all designed to avoid the, "Nope! Not this time!" conversation. Because after 4.5 years, that makes about 50 reps of the conversation, and I for one, am sick of having it.

And after all this, for some reason, when I casually allude to the fact that AF is in the building, he is shocked. It is moments like this that convince me that he just sort of floats through the day. I love him to pieces! And he is much smarter than the above anecdote makes him sound! But....yeah.

Then he tells me that he has been called in to work for the next day. So nobody will be there after 10:30 AM, when the new drug shipment will arrive (because I ordered it shipped Next Day Air specifically because I was under the impression that someone would be home. GAH! Gaaaaaaaaaah!)

I woke up yesterday, praying that the doorbell would ring. Rushed through my shower, etc. And at 10:15, had to accept that this was the one time they wouldn't show up at 8:05 when I am still stumbling blearily around the house.

So I called Mom, who came to the rescue. Thank goodness the house was clean! She brought some stuff for work she had been trying to get done, and of course, the delivery guy showed up within the hour. So Mom saved the day!

I now have two menacing mylar packets sitting in my fridge, right next to the roast beef. And my Day 3 appointment is tomorrow. And I am kind of...I don't know.

I realized, due to a number of factors (Chris, I'm looking at you!) that I need to buckle down and get serious. I have been talking the talk and walking the walk for so long, and I have gotten so jaded- I've been skimping and taking short cuts. Time to get serious!

Saturday, September 8, 2007

I only *look* fertile.

I wrote the first part of this two weeks ago. I was just going to leave it as a draft (because it's on the rant-y side) but today...ugh. Well, we will get to it.
_______________________

Guys: You need to learn when to shut up.

I haven't experienced this with women to the degree that I have with men.

Male teachers, when I work in their classrooms, inevitably ask if I have kids. No? Why not? Do I want to have kids? Obviously I like kids, since I work with them. Am I planning to have them in the near future? And uh, how old are you, anyway? Because you know, none of us are getting any younger, haha!

I tend to use the word "Eventually." Or "Someday." If they're really aggressive about it, they'll get "Whenever it happens." Which is as much info as I think they deserve.

The kids in my classes want to know this about me too. Actually, they say things like "Why don't you have kids? Don't you like us?" Or "If you had kids, they would be so lucky! You could teach them science! They could make slime EVERY DAY!"

Yes, slime-making is a large part of my job. I know you're jealous.

The kids' questions don't bother me to the degree that the male questions do, although they tend to trigger more tears, upon reflection.

Seriously, though, where do these guys come from?

One of my former co-workers kept bugging me, "Why aren't you and your husband pregnant yet?"

One day, fed up (during my first bout with Clomid) I snapped,

"We think sex is icky."

The reaction was hilarious, but I have never had the guts to try using that one again. He did quit asking, after that.

The night before my IUI, I went to girls night out at my fave dive-y place, and for some stupid reason, I was mobbed. All night. I kept waving my wedding ring around, and either Gonal-F contains some serious pheremones, or drunk men are attracted to shiny things, because what started out as a fun night out disentigrated into testosterone-filled craziness.

My stock intro is, "Oh my name is Jenna. And I'm married." Because I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Every. single. one. followed that up with, "Really? Got any kids?"

And reacted with amazement when I said no. And asked how long we had been married. Then offered to rectify that pesky childless situation. Or just kept saying, "But why not?" Like my childlessness was a sin against God.

One actually said, "I can fix that in about 15 minutes. Or you could just use my toothbrush? I think that works, too." Another one suggested that maybe my husband was "doing it wrong". (Ha! Mister 100 million? Ooookay dude.)

I don't understand it. Do men think that they can tell by looking at you if you're fertile or not? I know there's a bunch of stuff out there about waist/hip measurement, long hair, blah blah.

Is that it? I do have long hair, and was actually complimented on my "beautiful, shapely, natural nails" (down, boy!)the other night, although that probably owes more to prenatal vitamins than anything else. I'm thinking it's more about my cleavage. But then, I tend to be suspicious by nature.

I don't know.

And then, today!

I was at work at a home show, making slime for kids (yes, this really is part of my job. Wooo! Science!) and went looking around on my break. I was still wearing my lab coat and Converse sneakers. And my wedding ring.

I was looking at a place that sold pet stuff, and the guy at the booth next door kept looking over, and so I smiled at him. Mainly because there was nobody at his booth, and I felt bad! It was a public utility, so not the most popular destination.

He started asking me questions about the classes I teach and the birthday party packages that my workplace offers, because his kid is turning 5, and he and his wife are planning the party. He asked if I was married. (Yes.) He asked if I had kids.(No.)

"Why not?" he asked.

"I just don't." I kept being friendly, because I am wearing my lab coat with my company info on it, and he is a potential customer. We chit-chatted for awhile, and then he said, AGAIN,

"I just can't believe you don't have kids? How long have you been married?"

Questions like this make me want to look at my watch and say, "Oh, about 15 minutes."

Or, you know, "Eff you, you effing effer, it's none of your effing business."

I started to try to politely end the conversation, and...GET THIS!

"Do you live near ______?"

Completely astounded (and also really, really stupidly) I said yes.

"Here's my number. Why don't you give me a call sometime? I think I have seen you around- I am in your neighborhood a lot. We could go get a latte and hang out."

He handed me a card. While I started to panic. Oh crap, he's probably our meter reader. Note to self- don't forget to close the blinds.

"Um....I know my husband wouldn't be thrilled."

"Oh...really? My wife is cool with me having female friends."

My face must have been hilarious, because he just laughed, took the card from me, and dropped it into the bag he was giving me with the water conservation pamphlets and the squeezy stress thing shaped like a life preserver. And said, "Well, give me a call sometime!"

Holy crap.

Friday, September 7, 2007

The very stream-of-consciousness verdict

I have never had a positive pregnancy test.

Today was no exception.

The man is still blissfully asleep, and I am just sort of befuddled.
You know those months where you think, "Wow. This is it!"

It was one of those months for me. I stroked my tummy this morning when I couldn't get back to sleep, and it felt so sleek and rounded, alive and promising. Of course, now that I have taken the test, it just feels like I ate a basketball. (Why? Oh. Last night's spaghetti.)

I wish I knew what the issue was. This unexplained thing is just crap. I feel like were blindly fumbling and flailing in the dark while throwing money around. There's not really a whole lot more that I can say about it.

The Man and I discussed what our options were yesterday, before I left for work. One cycle of injectibles down, two to go. Take a small break for the holidays. Then, depending on what the doctor says, we're in IVF territory. We agreed to have ONE, because it's not our money we're dealing with, and while I know my parents will offer (and coerce, and argue) I don't know if I can bring myself to accept more help from them.

And after that....well. Then we reevaluate our options, but the semi-spoken agreement is that we adapt to the idea that we just may not have kids. Which just seems like a nightmare scenario, but it needed to be addressed.

Of course, I am also thinking that The Man could start brushing up on his Russian. But that's way out of left field, and while I am open to the idea of adoption, he isn't, and that's just the way it has always been. Running out of options might change things, however.

This month has been one of the best so far, with regards to sanity (no Clomid) and my reaction to the plus-sign's failure to appear. It's also been better with regards to my progesterone side effects. I have been going to bed really late, and then waking, inexplicably, at 6AM. Maybe my body is adjusting? Or maybe I just know what to expect.

I am doing pretty well on my attempts to keep away from the "cookie crutch", as well as the ice cream. Mainly because I haven't bought any, and if it is not in my house, I am much less likely to eat it. I crave sugar pretty much constantly, and I know it is a side effect of the 'rone. Well, that and the feeling every morning that someone has played a practical joke on me as I lay sleeping: a joke that involves a major invasion of privacy and several judicious squirts of Elmer's glue.

So, Day One hovers on the horizon. I need to call the clinic today (oh bother). AF should be arriving tomorrow or Saturday, just in time for my crazy schedule this weekend, where I am working two ten-hour days- five hours at a Home Show for one job, one hour off (to get lunch and drive across town), then five hours folding clothes for the other one. 10 hours on my feet? WTF was I thinking?!!!

I am noticing positive results from the new job, however. I am usually in a great mood when I come home. I have TWO jobs that I love. (It would be nice if they paid better, but such is life.) I seem to have a lot more energy. And my legs are seriously looking killer, even if my feet are slowly killing me.

So, a new cycle is on the horizon.




And I feel incredibly ready for it. You hear that Universe? I'm ready. I can take whatever you can dish out, you mean ol' beeyotch. Bring it on!

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Up, up and away!

Alright- I know the last series of postings wasn't exactly the happiest thing I have ever written, but it felt really good to get it out.

Thank goodness I am not in the same place now that I was then! I am actually a pretty happy camper, most of the time.

In the spirit of cheerfulness, I want to share some stuff that makes me laugh. Or, just makes me happy.

And (amazingly) the first two selections involve March Of The Penguins.

For example, when I wrote the last post, I had already seen this 30 second recap of the movie as reenacted by animated bunnies. By the way, if you like the bunnies, you can find more movie recaps here.

What I accidentally found while looking for a penguin pic for the last post was this:



My husband and I have watched this three times, and are still giggling.

Other things that can always brighten up my day:

LOL Cats

This commercial:


Which actually makes me think of you guys. :)

McSweeney's Lists! One of my favorites:

Titles of Songs I Could Credibly Write If I Became a Rap Star

I'll have to think about the rest- I better hang it up, it's getting late.



Wednesday, September 5, 2007

And I did it to myself! Part Three (And thankfully, final)


That's right. I made it through the baby shower. But March Of The Penguins, on top of Clomid, on top of baby shower...

Not one of my brighter ideas.

This is right when it had come out, and there was lots of footage of cute, fluffy little penguin chicks and their devoted parents.

What I didn't realize is that the entire movie is about the lengths that penguins will go to to reproduce. That they travel for miles and miles, freeze their little penguin butts off, starve, lose 2/3 of their body weight, huddle in packs, endure long separations from their significant penguin others, and get eaten by leopard seals...just to produce a baby penguin.


If you have seen this cinematic classic, I can tell you the point where I became hysterical...It's the part when you see the father penguin fumble the egg after the mother penguin has left to go refuel, and Morgan Freeman's voice says, "The egg dies."

I wish I could say there were tears gently rolling down my cheeks, but I literally started sobbing. Heaving shoulders, gasping for air, strange horking sounds, the whole thing.

By some miracle, this occurred when my best friend went out to use the bathroom, and the rest of our party was sitting two rows ahead of us. Still the theatre was packed, and there were people turning to look at me and figure out just what the hell was going on.

I guess there was a line for the bathroom...another stroke of luck. By the time my friend got back, I at least appeared to be somewhat OK, although I pretty much wiped away tears for the duration of the movie.

When we got out, everyone did that thing where they don't look at you.

I have never been so relieved to get in a car and drive back home. And when I got back, I tried to explain to The Man what the issue with the movie was, and I couldn't get it out without becoming hysterical all over again.

I have since watched March of The Penguins several times, and while it's never affected me the same way. But the memory of how impossibly bleak my life seemed while I was sitting in that movie theatre is always with me.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

And I did it to myself! Part Two

You can read about Part One here.

Fast forward a few months- My best friend and I get the invites done, do RSVP's, get the napkins and games and gifts together, you know the deal. Operation Baby Shower was now in full effect.

In the meantime, I had been prescribed my first-ever cycle of Clomid. I'd had another friend who had taken it, and got pregnant with twins on the first shot. I was totally unprepared for the hot flashes and mood swings that lingered on the horizon. (She didn't mention that part.)

We packed up and made the four-hour drive. We were going to stay overnight for two nights, then drive home early on Sunday morning. I had no idea that I was a ticking time bomb of The Crazy.

The first evening went fine, although our friend was in the final stages of pregnancy and was miserable about...well, everything. Although, If you still have morning sickness in your eighth month, I think you may be a little bit entitled. She kept joking that, "If he won't stop crying, I'll just leave him at the fire station."

OK, I could deal with that. It was a joke. Very funny!

Then her mother came from out of town the next morning, and she kept making the joke, and first-time Grandma freaked out every time she said it. In addition, we were helping to clean up and get things ready, and her mom was kind of making us all nuts. ("Doesn't it embarrass you that your friends have to clean your house for you?!" Arrrgh!)

Everything was fine. The guests showed up. I managed to discreetly sneak off at intervals and do some deep breathing whenever I got emotional. I was flushed and sweating thanks to the Clomid, but I held it together, at least publicly. We oohed and aahed over the baby gifts, and as soon as everyone left, I had a little private teary moment in the guest room, when I called The Man. I felt sick with jealousy, and I just wanted to come home.

When I cleaned myself up and emerged, it was still pretty early in the afternoon, and we were talking about going to see a movie. I was thrilled, because we were close to a large city, where they were pre-screening what looked like a really adorable movie, something you'd take your kids to go see. Nothing that could possibly upset me.

March of the Penguins!

To Be Continued...

And I did it to myself! Part One

Okay. My worst infertility trainwreck ever...not the breakdown in front of all my relatives at Christmas last year, although that runs a close second.

It all started when I was out at lunch having sushi, a little over two years ago, with my best friend. We know each other from college, so we also have a lot of mutual friends who go way back.

One of these mutual friends got married the same year The Man and I did, and she called my best friend, so I was sort of involuntarily stuck eavesdropping to a one-sided conversation.

When I heard the sentence, "Well, what kind of yoga will you be doing? Because there are some poses that wouldn't be safe for...um....things...." I pretty much knew what was up. So did my best friend, who saw the look on my face and apologized and apologized, and as soon as she got off the phone.

"I'm so sorry! We didn't want you to find out this way, but we didn't want to hurt your feelings, and she didn't know how to tell you. It just happened on their first try!"

In her defense, this was before I had said much beyond the fact that we were trying, and there hadn't been a lot of steps taken aside from initial testing and charting and OPK's. And due to really unfortunate timing, it was Day One for me that day.

I got out, "Oh! I am so happy for her!!!!" in a voice ringing with sincerity (because it was the truth). And then I burst into tears. I made several attempts to stop them, but it was impossible, and all that my brain kept saying to me was during those college days, this person had been vocal about never wanting kids.

Because, you know, nobody is ever allowed to change their minds about decisions that they made when they were twenty. I'm such a dork.

That was the first time my best friend had ever seen me cry in the twelve years she had known me, and of course it just made us more embarrassed, and we both felt even worse, and so for some incredibly stupid reason...no, let's face it, to try to atone to myself and to make my best friend feel less horrible for breaking the news like that, and to prove to my mutual friend that I was really exited for her...

I said I would help to co-throw a baby shower for the new arrival.

To be continued...

Stayin' Alive

Well, I made it. Thanks for the support!

The little guy was hilarious, and he loves his new firetruck...and the dump truck my friend brought, as well as the boxes and tissue paper they both came in.

There is also a series of pictures of him walking nimbly in my abandoned high heels that I am sure will be used to embarrass the hell out of him in 10 years or so.

It was actually more than a birthday....it was kind of one of those white-knuckled "facing your fears things". And I think I passed, with flying colors. There was only one moment where I felt a little shaky, but I managed it. Thank goodness.

Does anyone else have a "Worst Ever" Infertility moment?

Because, oh yes, I have one. And it is a doozy. It totally stands alone. And it happens to coincide nicely with the baby shower of the now-two-year-old.

In other news, I am going to abandon my "cookie crutch" and start trying to eat more healthfully.

This may or may not have something to do with the fact that my face appears to be inflating to epic proportions. I prefer to remain inscrutable.

Sunday, September 2, 2007

The Legend of the Fount of Fertility

Once upon a time (about two weeks ago) a childless woman in her early thirties started a new part-time job.

In *gasp* RETAIL.

Sadly, this employment did not pay well, but it offered a great employee discount, and cute clothes. Also, it was close to my her house.

Everyone felt that this was a great idea, including the woman's husband, who felt that she needed to be "kept busy", and her mother, who was heard to make the comment, "You need some distraction so you stop dwelling on ...you know...THINGS so much!"

The woman, being a good daughter, did not bang the phone repeatedly against the wall and hang up.

And as it turns out, she was pretty good at selling new bras and jeans to women who desperately needed them, even when said items were not on sale. While her feet hurt, and she reluctantly had to trade in her leopard print peep-toe platform heels for leopard print ballet flats, she decided it was all worth it.

As it goes, when you are the new girl at work, people are hesitant around you for awhile. You know that they are getting used to you when they start dropping the occasional f-bomb and asking you about your pets.

Last night was that night, and she OH SCREW IT...I was asked the dreaded, "So do you have kids?"

I said something along the lines of, "No, not yet...hopefully soon."

They laughed and said, "Have you been drinking out of the water fountain?"

Um, yeah, I have been drinking out of the water fountain. My throat gets very dry trying to explain to women why they will look better if they would just hike their boobs up off their mid-sections.

"Of course, I drink out of the water fountain!" (Shit! Is it contaminated with heavy metals or something?)

"Well, then you'll probably be next. Five girls who were working here in the last year have gotten pregnant. We think it's the water."

Hello, nurse!

Seriously, I am considering taking water bottles in there with me tonight. Screw the Gonal-F. I'm going to get knocked up by drinking out of the water fountain.

Just think of the money I'll save!

Anyway, I returned to reality, and both of the girls I had been talking to were looking at me in that way where you know they think you're just a liiiiiiiiittle insane. Oops.

They may not be far wrong. I'm not kidding. I am going to be drinking that stuff like a camel.

Sorry I haven't been around. I have been on my busy 20 hour-a-day progesterone-induced sleep schedule. I occasionally wake up to eat cookies, and then I pass out again. If I'm not moving, I fall asleep; it's like I'm narcoleptic. I was ok last week, but this week has been ridiculous.

My body has also been changing shape on a daily basis. I have stopped weighing myself- because it is torture. As long as my jeans still fit, everything is cool. I just have to shake the feeling that I am slowly turning into an amoeba.

The Man: Hey! Your waist is back today!

Me: I know! I threw a welcome back party for it.

The Man: Wooohooo!

Me: By the way, you might want to take a picture of it. It's not going to be around for long- the party involved cookies.

The Man: I think we can consider that collateral damage.

Me: Cool.

By the way, please pray (or chant, or burn sage...I'm totally not picky) for me. I am going to a 2-year-old's birthday party tomorrow, at the behest of a single friend.

She begged, because she will be the only adult there who doesn't have a child or belong to Mommy-and-Me. Also, the mother of the two-year-old is prego, and isn't particularly thrilled about it.

I know it sounds like a recipe for disaster. However, this friend went with me to my sister's Nightmare San Francisco Pretentious Lawyer Drunk-Ass Disco Debacle 30th birthday party.

(Doesn't it sound like fun? Don't you wish you were there? As soon as sis was too drunk to notice, we snuck off to 80's flashback goth night, where we had a lot more fun).

Suffice it to say, I owe her big time, so I am going.

I bought a Little People Fire Engine and the expansion People Pack, featuring Fireman Jose (who has a highly entertaining handlebar moustache) and his Trusty Dalmatian, Freckles.

There had damn well better be cupcakes.